Cockroach
by xRestlessme
Summary: This is what she called him, unknowingly branding it into his mind. Was there something wrong with him? Why did her words swim in his frantic thoughts? Rated T for torture.


**Welcome to another story! I'm trying to jump into darker stories, so it helps if you critique me!**

**Also any characters you think are looked past? Just tell me the name and series, out of the one's I've written, and I'll try to do a sort of one-shot. I think I need to practice with finding character's personality better.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and if I did Draco would be the main character. **

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He sits in the darkness, trying to silence whimpering cries.

He not a child, not a chicken; he has to be strong. What will happen if he isn't?

His stupid choices and foolish mind already endangered them . Burrowing further into the thick blankets, he to forget everything.

Draco Malfoy in vain to forget himself and what he is-a little sniveling cockroach.

Wasn't that what she had called him? That little mud blood had the guts to say such things to him. He hadn't understood**,**especially when she looked like a wild gorilla.

't that what the little mudblood had called him? She had guts, he had to admit. She had looked like a wild gorilla, her mouth spewing meaningless words instead of intelligent sentences. didn't understand what the poor Weasel saw in her;Draco was certain most would agree.

Blond, almost silver hair, strains to shine in the ultimate darkness as he called. Standing, the once angry boy ...afraid?

_Who wouldn't be with a snake in his presence?_

Long limbs stroll through the many halls, hands shaking by his side.

Was this going to be the last time he would ever make this trip again?

Day and day, he was called to come before the Dark Lord.

Each time, he was humiliated for sport.

He couldn't stand it anymore, he didn't know what he could do.

He glanced at the expensive wall hangings, beginning to become covered with dust and some even sported burn marks.

That was what happened when one usually invited Death Eaters to live in one's house.

His skin is paler then ever, giving him the appearance of a horrible sickness. grey-blue eyes look around the dining room, meeting the blank slate of the Death Eaters' mask. They seem to blend into the darkness identical.

Only the Malfoys wear no masks, no hoods, and no pride in this cave of shame.

His master, who sits before them all, searches Draco's small and deceitful thoughts. The worst case of rape that can ensue - the crime of exploiting hidden desires.

_"Is this the way you think of your master, boy? Do your thoughts betray the rest of your family?"_ hisses the voice that stabs into his soul and body, over and over.

Narcissa's hooded eyes widen, hands clenching. She is silent; they knew this would happen. The whole room knows that this creature is not even worth death. The Dark Lord will do nothing.

Eyes trained on the ground, he tries to stop the frightened tears from falling. His whole body shakes, disagreeing with the sentiment. He knows that, by not telling the truth on where his loyalties lie, he is branded a coward by the whole cast. But Draco would rather be a coward than a dead body.

The icy hands draw away, red eyes burning. Draco glances around the stage once more. Yes, a stage. A tragic play is occurring. Perhaps if he closes his eyes and taps his heels, he will return by to his status as King?

King of the Slytherins, god of the women... he didn't care anymore. This frail man - _boy _- could even hope to actually be a muggle, just to escape the searing pain that suddenly rushes through his hand, a whispered curse.

A true man would bite his tongue and choke on his own blood.

Draco screams out loud, bones cracking and rearranging, then back into original positions only to start again.

Disapproving clucks run through the room, Narcissa's eyes are frantic. She bits her lip, drawing blood that runs down her chin. Lucius's head is bowed, eyes wild with rage. He does not feel the hands upon his mind and let's his thoughts run loose.

_Impudent child! Born from riches and fallen to cowardice. Your mother wouldn't scream! She would sit there and take it like any of the strongest men. I would not shout, my body would shudder, but you are like a pup._

Draco lies upon the ground, body spent, breathing heavily. His eyes water, yet his face is still dry.

He knows what will happen next - they all know. It's been happening everyday for the past month, over and over like a horrible nightmare.

_"You may leave my sight, boy."_

A disappointed sigh is heard as Draco quickly looks towards the source.

His aunt, gives a cruel smirk.

Struggling to pull himself up, Draco stumbles out of the room, hair black from soot that coats the tile.

Limping slightly, he walks the path he had just taken, too-angry, scared, he didn't know emotions anymore- to even think.

The portraits around him, past family members, avert their eyes.

He doesn't know if its to save him the embarrassment or to save them the shame.  
Draco Malfoy doesn't care anymore.

Lying in his bed, Draco lets the sobs break free, knees brought up to his chest.

His sanity seems to be slowly slipping away, already broken into the smallest bits.

Draco Malfoy is the sniveling little cockroach.

He is the coward, who just wants this play to end.

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**Well any good? Please review after!**


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